


Business Trip

by vividder



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), SCP Foundation
Genre: Memory Wipe, One chapter is a bit squicky, Possession, SCP!Doctor, XK Class End Of The World Scenario, little bit of OOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 20:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10647156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vividder/pseuds/vividder
Summary: The Doctor takes Clara with him on a business trip.  He ends up introducing Clara to the strange and unknown world of the SCP Foundation, where information is power and memory is dangerous as they explore SCP-2427 to avert an XK Class End-Of-The-World scenario.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all!
> 
> This story was written a long time (last summer?? I think) ago but I gotta upload it in honor of The Pilot and Class releasing last night - more thoughts on those in the end notes. Anyway, you should be aware that the quality of writing here isn't my best.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it! Notes will generally be at the end of chapters if I feel they are necessary, but for chapters with specific warnings or such, I'll put those up front.

“So, where are we headed today?” Clara asked, bounding into the TARDIS.  “Another planet?  Maybe the distant past?  I dunno, let’s just do something fun.”  It had been raining for most of the past week, and she was bored with Blackpool, bored with her students that didn’t try, bored with the stupid telly, and bored mostly because the Doctor had been a few days late.

“I’m afraid it won’t be as fun as you think,” the Doctor said.  He didn’t look nearly as excited for the adventure as Clara had hoped he would.  “It’s more of a business trip than anything else.”

“How is it a business trip if you haven’t got a job?” Clara pulled the door shut behind her and skipped up to the console.

“Well, then it’s a trip I’m going on to do business with someone,” the Doctor corrected, sounding a bit bothered.  He began fiddling with knobs and levers and buttons on the TARDIS’s controls.

“Who do you do business with?” Clara asked, throwing her jacket over one of the railings surrounding the raised platform.  

The Doctor pulled the starting lever, and the TARDIS began to make its signature whooshing-groaning noise as it took off.  “You’ll see.”

Clara was hoping this was one of those things the Doctor claimed was boring but then got really interesting.  Those occasions were pretty frequent, as the Doctor often overestimated exactly what Clara would find interesting. This was likely one of those times since, after all, the Doctor never went on business trips.  

“Is it on another planet?”

“No,” the Doctor replied sullenly.  “Stop pestering.”

Clara wanted to pester him more, just because, but something stopped her.  The Doctor seemed very wary of this meeting.  Even more so than usual.  Maybe he wasn’t telling her anything because the person was dangerous.  Or an alien.  Or someone she was never supposed to meet.

She wondered if he was scared, or if she was being brought along for a reason.  His unwillingness to humor her was a bit unnerving.

Thankfully, Clara didn’t have to wonder for long. It was a short trip, so likely not somewhere too far away in the far future or past.

Clara moved to open the door, but the Doctor stopped her.  “Be very careful.  Keep your hands away from your body.  Move slowly, they’re not expecting you, and they’d love to get their hands on someone who’s spent too much time in the TARDIS.”

“Who are you meeting with?” Clara demanded an answer this time.

The Doctor shrugged, finally humoring her.  “Some of the most annoying people in the universe, I imagine.”

Well. That wasn’t very helpful, like every other answer he’d given today.  Clara hesitated.  Should she really be going out there if they might kidnap her?

“Well, we don’t have all day,” the Doctor prompted.

Clara pulled the door open slowly, and held her hands out in front of her chest, palms forward.  The door opened onto what appeared to be a cobblestone path leading to a country club.  The chain link iron fence surrounding the property was closed and padlocked, and two guards on either side of the gate already had their assault rifles drawn and aimed at her chest.  They were dressed like they belonged on a SWAT team, not guarding the - Clara glanced at a sign planted in the ground - Green Meadows Country Club.

This was almost definitely twenty first century earth.  But who was the Doctor meeting here?  UNIT?  The Doctor wouldn’t do business with someone who used weapons liberally or carelessly, Clara figured.  So, perhaps these were just for intimidation?  This did seem like the sort of posturing the Doctor would consider ‘annoying’.

Clara heard the Doctor slip out behind her, keeping to the same precautions.  

“Identify yourselves!” the one on the right shouted.

“The Doctor, number two-nine-zero-three, and Clara Oswin Oswald,” the Doctor replied.  “Companion taken from the early twenty-first century.  Human female of approximately however many years of age, no anomalous properties.”

“2903, you are now under containment.  Any attempt by you or your companion to leave the restricted area will be met with lethal force.  You are surrounded by concealed agents with a kill order, should you choose to break containment.  Do you understand?”

“Yes,” the Doctor said clearly.  He looked at Clara, prompting her to speak now.

“I agree,” Clara swore her voice was shaking.  Who were these people?  A secret branch of UNIT?  Evil?  They obviously liked to believe they were military or paramilitary, and maybe they were. But the Doctor’s acceptance of the situation was easily the strangest part of the encounter - threats of lethal force were not normally something he tolerated.  Also, why were they calling the Doctor 2903?

“Beta-7, stand down,” the one on the right said over a microphone, then turned to them.  “The Site Director will see you shortly.

Clara noticed that their guns had been lowered to their sides, but neither guard had relaxed.  The silence grew awkward with all the questions in her head.  “Are they UNIT?” she whispered to the Doctor.

“No, they’re what UNIT wishes they were,” the Doctor whispered back.  

Clara was sick of the cryptic answers.  “Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

The Doctor hesitated, and Clara thought he might actually say something useful.  “What you know about them is dangerous enough. For now, don’t ask questions.”

Clara was absolutely certain that this was not a country club.

She stayed silent after that.  A minute later, a man flanked by two guards dressed in the same kind of SWAT uniform with the weapons walked down the cobblestone path inside the fence.  He had thinning brown hair, and he was wearing a lab coat over his suit.  He seemed completely nonplussed by the sight of the TARDIS.

The man stopped just inside the gate and swiped a card at a concealed reader before placing his finger on a concealed reader.  Finally, he used a key to undo the padlock, and unwound the chain.

“Containment has been established?” he asked the guard that seemed to be in charge.

“Affirmative.”

“Excellent.”  The man walked through the gate to meet them.  “2903.  I’m Doctor Henderson, the Director of Site 2427.  Thank you for coming.”

“I’m the Doctor and this is Clara Oswald.”

Henderson gave them a small smile that made his next statement feel like a lie.  “You know I’d love to use your name, but you know protocol.  Miss Oswald, it is a pleasure to meet you.”  He reached out a hand to her, and she shook it.  “Did the Overseers tell you why you are here?”

“Not yet.”  The Doctor clearly did not like this man.

Henderson reached into his jacket and pulled out a small tablet, which he handed to the Doctor.  “All the files pertaining to SCP-2427 are on here, everything but O5 clearance.  We need you to go in there and help us make some determinations about a possible reclassification.”

“Reclassification?” the Doctor asked, leveling his eyes at the researcher.  “To what?”

“There are apparently 10,372 Purity Dragons in there, and we need you to figure out what they are, and where.  Because as far as we’ve explored 2427, we should have seen one, and we haven’t.  We don’t know how big 2427 is, and it’s concerning that it could hold that many dragons.  There is also apparently a portal in there to other anomalous locations like 2427, and we need to know where those locations are.”  Henderson’s genial smile vanished.  He lowered his voice and glanced at the visible agents.  “Finally, there is something in there that is an XK Scenario bomb.  And it is ticking.  I’ve had it expunged from the list of 2427’s contents, but if that is not averted...well, you know the consequences, 2903.”

“XK Scenario?” Clara asked before she could catch herself.

“An apocalypse that would end all life in our solar system - at least - through supernatural means,” Dr. Henderson said like it was the kind of thing he dealt with every day.  

“Is anything in there a human cognitohazard?” the Doctor asked, completely ignoring Clara’s misstep.

“Not really, but don’t look at the clouds and don’t lie.  Also, you might encounter a cult.  Consider them hostiles until proven otherwise, and don’t get near the fire hydrant.  Are you ready to go, 2903 and Miss Oswald?”

The Doctor eyed Henderson.  “And you’re not going to have the agents take my TARDIS this time, are you?”

Henderson shook his head.  “This site is only for the containment of 2427.  We’d have nowhere to contain it, and I read Clef’s report about the last time someone tried that.  I might be comfortable dealing with a potentially hostile interdimensional cult, but I don’t think I am prepared for 2903-1.”

“You’re smarter than most of them, then,” the Doctor muttered.

Henderson reached into his coat and took out two cuttings from a tree.  “If you’re ready, then take the hemlock.  SCP-2427-A lies at the center of the site.  Hold the hemlock and walk up the stairs, and then you’ll have arrived in 2427-B.  As far as we’ve seen, you’re not likely to be directly attacked, but be careful.  Keep the hemlock with you, you’ll need it to get out again.  If you end up in another attic, I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you.”

Clara and the Doctor each took one of the branches.

“Center of the site, with a perimeter of 500 meters around,” was Henderson’s final direction.  “2903, you have permission to enter Site 2427.  Good luck.”

“Come on.” The Doctor lead Clara down the path, past the main building, and to an area surrounded by a low, stone wall.  The guards followed them cautiously, and re-established a perimeter around the wall once they’d stopped.  In the center of the circle was a small, unfinished stone staircase built into the side of a small hill.  

The Doctor walked toward the hill, and Clara followed, gripping the hemlock tightly.  The Doctor vanished up the stairs.

Clara followed him.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet the Purity Proctor

Clara didn’t feel any different when she emerged at the top of the hill.  But when she took a quick look around, the changes revealed themselves.  The main building stood in its place, but the stone wall and chain link fence were gone.  The cobblestone path and the guards were nowhere to be seen.  Clara and the Doctor had ended up on an empty hilltop, surrounded by a circle of trees.  A fire hydrant stood off to one side of the clearing, enclosed within a fence of razor wire.  Several glass domes had been placed over some strange looking trees on the edge of the yard.

The Doctor had already begun skimming through the files on the tablet, and Clara waited for him to finish, looking for angry cultists (because with these kinds of things, you never knew).  She avoided looking at the clouds.  The Doctor slid the device back into his coat.

“So, what is this place?” Clara asked.

“A hemlock attic,” the Doctor said.  “A weapons storage facility for the Brazen Heart, an extradimensional cult protected by clouds that shoot lead balls.”

“That’s pleasant,” Clara muttered, keeping her eyes below the tops of the trees.  “So why aren’t we being attacked?”

“We’re inside the trees and we’re not looking at the clouds.  We know the rules, so we’re not stupid intruders.  We could be converted.”  He sounded entirely too thrilled at this prospect.

“So, 2903,” she said, emphasizing the numbers, “where to first?”

“Don’t call me that.”  The Doctor sounded insulted as he  lead Clara towards the large building.  “Why do they call you that?” Clara asked, jogging a few steps to keep up.

“It’s my skip designation.  I am, according to the SCP Foundation, an anomalous person, and they’d love to lock me up and stick me with needles all day just to see what would happen.  Skips are not-people.  We’re objects, as far as anything beyond the documents are concerned.  Our basic needs are met in containment, so long as we do whatever the nice men in the white coats tell us to do.”

“And if you don’t?”

“You don’t want to know.  Sometimes death.  Never-ending sedation.  Electroshock, complete isolation, whatever it would take to get cooperation.  I said that the Foundation is what UNIT wishes they were, but UNIT will never be able to match the Foundation’s cold efficiency or their funding.  After all, when no one is human, a loss of life doesn’t matter.”

That was unnerving, but at least it explained something.  

Clara didn’t say anything more as they walked toward the house.  It was huge, with at least three floors and grand architecture.  It had been built with red bricks and white trim around the roof, several balconies, and tall, narrow windows.  It also looked very old.  She supposed that the research center had been modeled off of it.  The house seemed suited to the landscape, as if it had been built specifically to complement the trees and grass.

They arrived at the white doorway, which was surrounded by an elaborately carved arch.  The Doctor stared up at it with his hands in the pockets of his velvet coat and said, “Purity house, check.”  He pulled open the door and stood out of the way.  Clara took that as a sign to walk in.

She took one look and stepped right out to check the outside.

“What the hell?”

She peeked back inside.

The house was not a TARDIS, although she’d assumed that at first.  In fact, it was smaller on the inside, if that was possible.

She walked around the side of the building.  Yep, definitely smaller on the inside.  “It’s smaller on the inside,” she said, jogging back in and tapping the Doctor on the shoulder, interrupting a scan he was running of the short, white foyer with his sonic glasses.  “How is that even possible?”

“We’re in another dimension, remember?” the Doctor said, finishing his sweep of the foyer.  “It doesn’t have to be possible.”

“Still, it’s weird.”

“You like the TARDIS just fine.”

“Yeah, but this is claustrophobic.”

The Doctor laughed quietly at that.  Everything seemed too quiet in here.  Clara suddenly became acutely aware at how isolated they were.  Inside the house, a guard stood in front of the first of the three doors in the corridor.  He wore the same kind of SWAT uniform that the guards back at the research center had, but he barely glanced at their entrance.

Their footsteps creaked loudly on the old wooden floor as they walked up to the guard.  “What’s in here?” the Doctor asked.

“SCP-2427-3,” the guard said.

“Can we look?”

“2903 is not permitted to enter.”

“What about me, then?” Clara asked, shifting the Doctor to the side.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“There is a potent visual cognitohazard inside the room.” 

Clara turned to the Doctor in confusion.  “Dr. Henderson said there were no cognitohazards here.”

A tiny spark flared in the Doctor’s eyes as he answered.  “Rule one, Clara.  The Foundation lies by omission.  Information is power and power is dangerous.  Why tell us about a cognitohazard if we can’t get to it?”

“There’s no need for us to know if they don’t think it will hurt us, so we don’t,” Clara said, understanding.

“Exactly.”  The Doctor didn’t seem to mind that he’d said this right in front of a Foundation guard with a very large gun.  On the other hand, the guard didn’t even act like he’d heard.  The Doctor turned back to the stoic guy.  “You’ve got amnestics, haven’t you?  You should.  I mean, what if the guy that feeds it the goat gets a look at it?”

“The person who feeds SCP-2427-3 wears a full face covering to perform the task.”

“But you could let us in and dose us afterwards?”

Clara had to hide her surprise.  She didn’t know what amnestics were, but she knew what amnesia was.  And she could guess what the drugs did.  Nothing in that room, she was almost certain, was worth forgetting chunks of her life over.  He’d forgotten she was just a human, again.  Sure, she might take field trips through space and time, but that wouldn’t negate the fact that her life was short compared to the Doctor’s, and she wanted to live it fully.  “Doctor...” she began to protest, but the guard cut her off.

“No.”

Clara was relieved by the answer until the Doctor changed tactics.

“Come on!  It’s her first trip through a skip!  She’s got to be exposed to at least one cognitohazard before we let her go back.”

Okay.  That had gone into the realm of the ridiculous fairly quickly.

To his credit, the guard did not start laughing.  He only raised his eyebrow at the absurd suggestion.

The Doctor slumped for a moment, thinking of a response to that.  “Fine.  Cognitohazards aren’t that fun anyway.”  He became animated again, a sharp focus entering his eyes.  “Do you know why we’re here, Mr....?”

“You do not have a high enough clearance to know that information, 2903.”

Clara was fairly certain that the Doctor had a clearance at least as high as this guy, but the Doctor let that point go to the wind.  “But do you know O5 called me?”

Clara thought the man wouldn’t answer, but at last, he admitted that he didn’t know why the Doctor was here, but he had known the Doctor was coming.

The Doctor’s blue eyes widened, and he looked the guard right in the eyes.  “They need me to find the 10,372 dragons that are apparently here and defuse an XK Class Apocalypse.  What if that thing knows where the dragons are?  You might have helped stop the end of the world.”

“SCP cross testing is no longer permitted.”

The Doctor snorted.  “This isn’t an experiment.  I’m going in there, asking some questions, and getting out.  That’s all.”

“And the cognitohazard?”

“You forget I’m a telepathic alien who has lived longer than your entire species.”

The guard considered this further, before making a surprising decision.  “Fine.  I’m locking you in.  Knock when you want out.  If you don’t knock after half an hour, I’m going to assume you’re dead and that I never saw either one of you.  Your minder here can tell O5 what happened when the formal appeal is made before she’s dosed with Class E’s and sent on her way.  Either way, it’s someone’s funeral.”

Clara did not like the sound of that.  The Doctor positioned her behind him and to his right as he turned to the door.  

“I’ll just be a minute,” he said, and his fingers brushed hers as the guard fumbled with a key to get the several locks on the steel door opened.  He looked to make sure the Doctor was ready.  “Close your eyes, miss,” the guard advised her.

Clara did as he said.

The door swung open silently, and the Doctor stepped forward.  As he did so, his fingers locked around Clara’s wrist, and she opened her mouth in surprise as she felt herself being yanked forward and into the room as something slammed behind her.  She heard the Doctor’s glasses buzzing furiously as he re-sealed the door.  She heard something else moving inside the room.

“What the actual fuck?” she shouted in indignation, whirling around to try and find the Doctor.  

Clara felt something strike her cheek, and she stepped back in surprise as she opened her eyes without thinking.  The Doctor stood in front of her, looking like a very stern teacher with his grey hair, piercing blue eyes, and pursed lips.  He had his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to face the door. 

“I must devour the impure,” the thing behind her hissed.  “Come to be judged.”

“Clara, I need you to turn and look at it,” the Doctor said, oddly calm.

“No way,” she said, careful to keep her eyes trained on the Doctor.  She could feel something pulling at her jeans, running some sort of appendage along her shoes.  It brushed her ankle, and she shuddered. 

“The impure shall be judged and they shall be punished, and it shall all be for the glory of the Mighty and Powerful,” the thing continued, and Clara shuffled forward, closer to the Doctor.

“Doctor!” she shouted, and it came out a lot higher pitched than she’d intended.  She was close enough now to press him up against the door.  

“I’ve broken containment, Clara,” he whispered.  “And I broke it for a very good reason.  If you turn around, I have a plan.”

“What will a cognitohazard do to me?” she asked, and her voice shook.

There was only fear in the Doctor’s face.  “Well, this one will eat you before it ever has a chance to mess with your mind, at this rate.”  He lowered his voice.  “Turn around.  Trust me.  Or we’re both dead.”

Clara, against her better judgement, trusted him and turned around.

_ The thing before her was her only ambition.  It was judge, jury, and if need be, executioner.  To be a Pure and Proven Believer, she would have to submit.  She would have to be judged.  To be pure was the only thing she desired in life.  If she was pure, she would be able to rest in Paradise with the One of Greatest Power, and this physical life would be but a past inconvenience.  She stepped toward it, utterly transfixed by the complexity and beauty of the machinery before her.  This was what would grant her every wish. _

_ Suddenly, something grabbed her arm and yanked her back.  She turned.  There was an old, frail man and he was impure.  He was jealous because he would never believe and be taken under the wing of the Worshipped One to have glory for all eternity.  She yanked her arm away from his foul touch.  “Don’t you understand, heathen?  I must be judged!” she told him, continuing back toward the machine which beckoned her. _

_ It was smiling, and it was ready to embrace her and her purity.  Her heart was truly for the Holy of Holies above. _

_ The man had his hands on her head now, and Clara fought to get out of his grip.  The disgusting infidel!  This scum of the earth, how dare he touch her!  He had no right to soil her!  She shook her head and clawed at his arms and hands, her nails drawing white lines across his white skin and .  “I need to be judged!” she howled.  “Let me go!” _

_ “Why must you be judged?” the man asked. _

_ How dare he judge her.  “How dare you question my purity!  It is only for the Worshipped One!  I must be judged so I may ascend!” _

_ “And what will the Worshipped One give you if you’re pure?  Why do this at all?” he demanded. _

_ “A wish!  I will have a wish!  And my wish is to be with Him in His Paradise!  Now let me go, you disgusting pervert!”  She tried to twist out of his grip, and bit down on his arm when he wouldn’t let go.  He flinched, and she broke away, moving toward the machine.  But he was only stunned for a minute, and he grabbed her more tightly this time, his hands going back around her temples.  She continued to shake her head to try and shake him off, but his nails were digging into her scalp now. _

_ She could feel something coming from outside, calming her.  It was foreign, and she hated it.  It was loathsome.  She would not be pure, she would not be pure!  What a horrible fate, and what a loathsome man to attempt to separate her from it!   _

_ But soon the calm was too strong.  She stopped struggling.  She felt tendrils of strong, quiet thoughts run through her brain, and she tried to push them out.  She tried, but they would not leave.  They told her she did not want judgement, that she was not one of the Brazen Heart, and that she was stronger than any of the pure would ever be. _ _   
_ And Clara was staring at the ugliest object in existence.  It seemed to have a human head at one end, several digestive organs, a metal pole, that, if set upright, might have been a coat rack, several green garden hoses, crystals, and enough electronic circuitry to salvage an entire working computer from.  It moved around them (she wasn’t sure how, because there was no way the garden hoses were supporting its weight), taunting them.  It seemed angry that she wasn’t bowing down to it anymore.

Clara really wasn’t sure what to think, but she knew she was furious at the Doctor, who, satisfied that she wasn’t going to feed herself to the thing, had moved on to the next order of business.

“Hello Mr. Purity Proctor!” he was said to the thing.  “Are we pure?”

He was bent down so he could gaze into its cold, dead eyes from its stolen head.  It was disgusting.  

“You are the spawn of Hell!” it hissed, and lunged, but didn’t reach the Doctor.

“You’re just mad because you don’t get a meal.  Nothing’s ever been stronger than you since they covered the windows with cement, has it?  You get fed goats from a pen, but I’ve heard the meat from actual sinners and heretics is better.  Is that true?”

It lunged, and he jumped back.  The teeth in the head were not human.  They looked more like someone had transplanted snake fangs into the mouth.

“But really, we’re purer than any human you’ve come across, aren’t we?  We could resist your corruption.  Our minds are pure and unwavering.  Which means you have to grant our wishes instead of getting a meal.”

There was a banging on the other side of the door.  “2903!” someone shouted.

The Doctor ignored it.

“What is it you desire?” the thing asked, resigned to its fate.

“Where are the 10,372 Purity Dragons?” Clara asked, glaring at the Doctor.  They were screwed.

“We have flamethrowers!” the same voice yelled through the door, “Come out now!”

“Outside the trees, in the Outer Sanctum,” the thing answered slowly.  It apparently wanted to see them burn to death.

“How do we get out to the Outer Sanctum?” the Doctor asked, almost tripping over his tongue trying to get the words out.

“You must be tested as pure.  You are pure.  The Leaden Cumulus will not hold injurious will towards you any longer.”

“Doctor...” Clara said, tugging his arm.

The Doctor remembered he was technically a fugitive now.  “We’re going to open the door while we’re behind it in case they fire.”  He positioned himself by the edge and Clara nearest the hinges, and put on his glasses.  The door unlocked, and the Doctor pulled it backwards quickly, jamming them against the wall.

It was good thinking, because Clara was immediately deafened by several assault weapons as the agents fired at invisible people.  The noise stopped, leaving Clara’s ears ringing.  She felt the guards and the Purity Proctor run out of the room, and she suspected they they had just made it very angry. 

She covered her ears as the guards began to shoot at the thing again.  She was certain they hadn’t been forgotten, but that the Purity Proctor or SCP-2427-5 or whatever they called it was the more dangerous threat.

The Doctor gestured for her to follow, and they slipped out from behind the door.  He didn’t grab her wrist this time, and they darted into the hallway.

“I’m still mad at you,” she muttered (or, she intended for it to be muttered), but followed him anyway.  The next time the Doctor said “Look!” near a cognitohazard, Clara was not taking the advice, no matter how badly they needed the information.

The guards were fighting with the Purity Proctor by the front door.  It had part of someone’s leg in its mouth, and the digestive system was going.  Clara tried not to look, and thankfully, they didn’t spend too much time in the hallway with the fight.

And everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possessed!Clara was really fun to write for some unknown reason.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They encounter the Confessionary

The Doctor hadn’t bothered to move her from where she’d fallen.  Instead, he’d kind of just sat down on the tiled floor next to her.

“What?” Clara demanded, propping herself up on one arm.  She got into a sitting position and glared at him.  The Doctor never sat quietly.  He was up to something.

“Oh, nothing,” he said, but Clara knew him well enough by now that nothing interesting enough for him to actually watch was not nothing.

“What was it?  What happened to me?”

“You said some things.  I tried not to listen, but well, it’s a small room, and if I go out there, they’ll shoot me until I stop regenerating.”

Clara folded her arms over her chest.  “What did I say?”

“Oh, how your soul was worth about as much as a pig’s foot, how I should feed you to that thing out there, how your heart has never been faithful to any man, how you deserved to have your body desecrated, that sort of stuff.”

“Was that another cognitohazard?” Clara demanded.  “Why did I do that?”

The Doctor shrugged.  “Welcome to the Confessionary.”

Clara rolled her head back and stared at the ceiling in exasperation.  “Oh, dear God.”  Then an idea occurred to her.  She was still angry about having been exposed to the cognitohazard for leverage.  It was cruel, it was underhanded, and she really, really felt very uncomfortable with the memories of her actions.

They weren’t hers, and that scared Clara almost as much as almost  dying.  She’d felt the fervent belief, the need for judgement, but the knowledge that those desires and actions weren’t hers was somehow more terrifying than the thought she’d almost been eaten alive.

The Doctor’s face was scratched, and Clara did not feel sorry for him.

“Well, if this is the confessionary, confess.  Why’d you drag me in there with you?  You could have just left me outside, and then we wouldn’t be in this mess.”  Her tone was accusatory, and Clara found that she didn’t mind.  He needed to know that he was out of line.

“I needed the wish.  The beliefs and actions of those who’ve been exposed to 2427-3 before have been documented.  I needed to use the wish to learn how to get out.”

“And how sure were you that we weren’t going to get eaten or I was going to end up a vegetable or something?”

The Doctor didn’t answer right away.  “About seventy percent sure.”  He saw the look on her face and continued.  “If it helps, I was 100% sure they’d call in the cavalry after that particular stunt.”

“You were seventy percent sure I wouldn’t die?” Clara half shouted through gritted teeth.

“Shh!” the Doctor said, looking at the door.

“That’s a 30% chance you thought I would!”  She reached over and swatted him on the arm.  “You scared me!  You really scared me,” she said, and she blinked away the tears at the edges of her vision.

“I know, and I’m sorry,” the Doctor said, just like she’d taught him.

The silence only reminded them of the noises slowly dying in the hallway.

Finally, after an age of the quietness, Clara spoke up.  “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”  He was staring absently out the window, which, if Clara was judging right, seemed to be on the second floor of the house.

This thing was way freakier than the TARDIS.  If she remembered correctly, they’d only gone through the next door in the hallway

“Why do you work for them?” Clara asked.

“Because I have to.  Because I’ve proven myself to be uncontainable, and the only other way out is for them to shoot me because I’m too dangerous, and too obviously anomalous to just release and monitor.  This way, they control where I go and what I do, and they get their data from that.”  The Doctor, who didn’t take orders from anyone, seemed to accept this without protest, and it scared Clara.  Whoever the Foundation was, they couldn’t control her friend like that.

And from what she’d seen, the Doctor would never be able to visit Earth again if he made them angry, because they could somehow contact him while he was traveling, and they were good.

When given the option to let the Doctor escape, they didn’t.

Well, in that case, the Doctor was equally as good, because he’d sicced a human-devouring Purity Proctor on them, and after hearing the sounds outside, Clara was really glad she wasn’t in the line of fire.

They waited in that room for what felt like hours, and the sun never went down, or even moved.  Neither did the clouds.  It was as if no time passed at all.  But finally, the noises stopped long enough for the Doctor to feel like they were safe to stand up again.

“We have to get out of here,” the Doctor said.  “We just have to get outside the trees before we’re safe.”

“Can’t they follow us through?” Clara asked, peering out the window and looking down.  The trees looked like they were close, but not close enough to make it difficult to walk between them.

“They’ll be bludgeoned to death by the cloud,” the Doctor said.  “We’re pure, so we won’t.”  He paused and looked thoughtful.  “I wonder if we can visit the condemned lechers on the way back.”

The first part of that had made sense to Clara, but the ending bit made her quite concerned.  “What was that?”

“They look like trees!”  The Doctor pulled up a picture on the tablet and showed her.  As far as she could tell, they looked like small trees.

She took the device, scrolled down to the description, and read it.  “Well.  I think that’s a stop we’re going to have to skip on our tour through Insane Cult Land.”  She handed him the device back and he slipped it in his pocket.  “So, do you think the coast is clear?”

“No, but we need to get moving.  Eventually, nothing will stop them from finding us.  The knowledge about where the dragons are might stop them from killing us for awhile.”

They opened the door the same way they had opened the Purity Proctor’s containment room: like someone was going to blaze the area with bullets.

Thankfully, nothing of the sort happened this time.  Slowly, they crept through the gore-stained hallway.  There was no guard at the Purity Proctor’s door now, but it was deadlock sealed.  Clearly, they’d gotten it back inside with a fight.

Clara stepped over something that she was relatively certain was someone’s hand, but it might have been a foot.  It was so mangled that she couldn’t tell.  Clara wrinkled her nose in disgust and tried not to look.

They made it outside, and found no one looking for them. The grass had been tramped down by the guards, but other than that, it was exactly the same as Clara had last seen it.

It was still broad daylight out, which was slightly unnerving given how much time had passed, but it didn’t bother Clara too much.  After all, when you’ve been on planets that did figure eights around two stars, it wasn’t that surprising that things got bright sometimes.

It was just weird that that planet looked so much like her own.  Well, it technically was, she assumed.  Just in another dimension.

She made sure the Doctor stayed well away from the biohazard containment units that contained the condemned lechers as they walked toward the trees.

The Doctor glanced up at the clouds occasionally, but never long enough to bring a ball of lead down on him.  They might have been told they were safe, but that didn’t mean they were going to test their luck with things they barely understood.

Eventually, they reached the edge of the trees.

“Ready?” the Doctor asked.

It was do or die by being pelted.  

“Yes.”


	4. Chapter 4 Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They discover what's outside the trees

The forest was surprisingly normal, but also very small.  It was only about ten to fifteen trees deep.

“This appears to be inverted,” the Doctor said.  “Instead of keeping all the most valuable stuff on the inside, it’s kept on the outside, and you can’t get out unless you’re pure.   I’m assuming only the people in the Brazen Heart are considered pure, which means they may not be entirely human if they are able to resist the cognitohazard and prove their worth.”

“Well, considering we’re the only people ever to have gotten this far, their trick appears to have worked,” Clara noted.

They had emerged into a walled-in semicircular space. Stone arches set on both sides of the semicircle were the entrances to other, similar rings.  It had the same sky as the inner circle, only without the clouds.  Like the inner circle, the ground here was covered in grass

“Found the dragons,” the Doctor murmured, and Clara followed his gaze.

They were perched on the top edge of the high stone wall, eyeing the intruders suspiciously.  The dragons were made of gold and had red, flaming eyes.  They seemed like they could sit on the wall, but after seeing the house, Clara didn’t know how big they actually were.  She knew there had to be 10,372 of them, however, and they stretched along the walls as far as she could see. 

A sign had been posted on the wall opposite to the entrance.  The Doctor and Clara carefully walked through the inside of the the ring, keeping an eye on the dragons with the fire in their mouths.

They reached the sign.  The message had been engraved into a metal plaque.

_ The Dragons are the legacy of the Great and Powerful, and they do not Hesitate to Defend against the Incursions of the Impure. _

“How are the impure supposed to get back here if they can’t get by the cloud?” Clara asked.

The Doctor shrugged.  “I don’t know.  Left or right?” He was referring to the two arches on either side of them which lead to other circles.

“Right,” Clara said.  

They walked through that archway.  They emerged into another similar ring, but this one had a bunch of perpetually burning  small trees in it.  The trees were charred to the point where they should have been piles of ashes on the ground, but yet they stood.

Clara counted twenty-seven of them.  

“The Pyre Children,” the Doctor said quietly.  

They crept along the outer wall, but Clara felt like they were still too close.  She wasn’t sure, but it seemed like they looked more like actual children on fire the longer she looked at them.  

She wasn’t sure if she was hearing faint screams or the wind.  She didn’t feel any wind.

She prayed to God it was the wind.

The next ring held another set of the same kind of stairs they used to get into the Hemlock Attic.  They were set into the side of a small hill, and ended before they got to the top, like the others.

“That must be the portal,” Clara said, but the Doctor had already come to that conclusion and moved on.  Clara jogged a few steps to keep up as they entered the next ring under the watchful eyes of the dragons.

The Doctor backpedaled and ran into her.  Clara was about to protest, but then realized that he probably a had very good reason.

“What is it?” she whispered.  There had been a very bright glow beyond the arch when the Doctor had stepped through, but other than that, it had looked just like every other arch.

“Angels,” the Doctor answered.  “They’ll blind you.  We have to go around.  Also, they’re another cognitohazard, and you don’t like those.”

“Thank you,” Clara said, and took off in the other direction.  It wasn’t so much a run as an attempt to casually get the hell out of the way without making the dragons angry.  They passed the Pyre’s Children and ended up back in the same beginning circle, and this time, they headed left.

There were three flat stones in the center of the grass in this segment.  Each was engraved with what appeared to be a Star of David in a hexagon, with each point of the star touching the inside of a corner.  The silver inlay inside of the engravings glowed faintly.  Clara could feel the power from where she stood.

She looked to the Doctor for an explanation.

“Don’t step on them,” was all she got.

So they walked around the stones carefully to the next archway.

Inside appeared to be what might have once have been a man.  He (or did it even have a gender?) was obese, which only made him appear more threatening.  The man’s lower legs had been completely buried in the ground. He looked like a half-rotted corpse.  His hands were black with gangrene, which spread up his arms from tied wrists.  He was naked, and he had been mutilated - his lower jaw had been completely removed.

Any other person would have been dead.

He was pouring wasps out of his orifices.

It was disgusting, and Clara turned around and retched.  It was horrible.  Clara had seen many awful things on her travels - she’d experienced some of them, even.  But this was by far the worst.  He was so clearly in agony, but he was also unbelievably repulsive.  The thought of even going a step forward made her feel ill.  She physically could not go near him..

It was horrible and awful and she could not stand it.

The Doctor seemed unaffected by this.  He looked across the small courtyard, and noticed on a sign attached to one of the round stone walls:

_ This man has debauched and made himself impure.  For his sins, he shall now be a fountain of repulsiveness, for it is for the Glory of the Brass Heart. _

“We have to go through there,” the Doctor said calmly.

How was he calm?  How could you look at a man whose body was being eaten by maggots and spewing wasps as he stood there, screaming with no voice the same way you would look at a carrot?

Clara wiped her hand across her face and realized she was crying.  Her breath was too loud in her ears, and she realized she was hyperventilating.

She wrung her hands in front of her and pulled at the sleeves of her jacket.

“No,” she gasped.  “Please.”

Her legs felt shaky and she couldn’t stand anymore, so she sunk to the ground.  A small part of her was ashamed of herself for showing such a reaction.  A much larger part of her was ashamed with the Doctor for not reacting at all.  But she couldn’t get her breath, and her head was spinning, and she just could not get her thoughts together long enough to admonish him.

The Doctor knelt on the grass in front of her.  He spoke softly, and but his Scottish accent was commanding.  “We need to go through there.”

“No!” Clara yelped, and her voice was too high.

“There’s no other way.”

Clara just hiccupped as she sobbed, trying to form words, but not finding the right ones.

The Doctor reached out and touched her shoulder.  “We don’t have a choice.”

“We,” Clara gasped, then got her breathing more under control, “Always....have a choice.  Always.”

“No, we don’t,” the Doctor said, and there was something in the way he said it that made Clara look up.  “We don’t have a choice.”

He looked frightened now.  And that scared Clara even more.  Because the Doctor never looked scared.  He was never the terrified one.

Something was deeply wrong here.

Panic threatened to take her over, but Clara forced herself to think.  What did they know?

  1. They were only safe from the SCP Foundation outside the trees.
  2. They were considered pure by the Brazen Heart’s standards, whatever those were.
  3. Leaving this dimension altogether would get them shot.
  4. Something here would cause the end of the world.
  5. She had no idea what the hell was going on.



They could go back, but they needed to have vital information to do that and hope to survive the ordeal.  They knew how to get past the trees, that was good.  But that might result in the Foundation kidnapping the Doctor to help make their agents immune to the cognitohazard, which no one wanted.

They knew where the dragons were and approximately how big this place was, that was quite good as well.  But handing over the information about how to get past the trees meant that the Foundation would figure out where the dragons were soon enough.

And if they didn’t say anything, but hinted at the information, the Foundation would force them to say what they knew.  If they had drugs to make you forget, the Foundation most likely also had drugs to make you speak.  And she wouldn’t put torture past them.

On the other hand, they could head towards that...that..that awful....thing.

The thought of it made her feel sick.

If they could get past it, they could find the thing that might end the world and stop it.  The Foundation might be in their debt for that.  They would have a tiny bit of leverage.  She knew it was really a long shot that the Foundation would honor any agreement like that, especially when the Doctor was just a number to them, but it was the only shot they had.

The Doctor was now pacing.  He’d come to that conclusion, only much sooner than Clara had.  He was wringing his hands and talking softly to himself.  About what, Clara couldn’t figure.  Dread filled up the pit of her stomach like a cold lead ball.

“Doctor?” she asked, but he was lost in thought.  Was he...was he arguing with himself?

“Doctor!” she said louder, and her voice still shook.  Whatever was going on, she blamed the thing in the next ring.  The Doctor would never react like this to anything, but his breathing was noticeably faster now.

Clara was seriously scared now.

“Doctor!” she shouted, and she swore the dragons turned to look at her.  She shuddered under their gaze, and the Doctor stopped pacing and looked up.  He looked like death warmed over.

“You’re right,” she stammered.  “We can’t go back.”

He nodded slowly and helped Clara back to her unsteady feet.  Wordlessly, he took her too-warm hand in his clammy palm and headed toward the ring.  

All Clara wanted to do was run.  Her heart was beating so fast, she thought it might fly out of her chest.  She felt sick and dizzy, and her feet felt like they were sinking in quicksand with each step.  It was torture.  The bugs swarmed around them, and Clara hated the sensations of the wasps crawling along her skin but never stinging and the flies buzzing around her face.  The Doctor’s grip was crushing her fingers now.

He pulled her along, and she stumbled, trying to keep up.  Was this circle larger than the others?

Finally, she felt the anxiety recede as she passed through the next gate.

“What was that?” Clara asked breathlessly.  “Another cognitohazard?”

The Doctor shook his head.  “I don’t know.  Perhaps a warning.”  He still looked worried, but his eyes fell on the thing in the center of the circle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite my incredibly poor grasp of chapter length, even I knew this one was gonna be a doozy.


	5. Chapter 4 Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They encounter the source of the potential XK Class Scenario.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter that was a bit squicky. I don't know why I left it in, but if this story is ever rewritten, this chapter will be the first to go. Although I abuse my characters a lot, this pushes my boundaries for what I am willing to write. I know there's far worse than this on this site - heck, there's far worse on the evening news. Doesn't mean that I feel like it belongs in my story, but I wrote it anyway.

This was easily the largest circle they had encountered so far.  Purity Dragons circled overhead, no longer sitting on the walls like gargoyles.  An urn sat on a circular pedestal in the center of the circle, surrounded by concentric rings of brass spreading outwards from it, like ripples in a pond.  

But the strangest thing about this ring were the people present.  One stood on each ring at the compass points, wearing a white robe and a white hood with a top that curled up and away.  Heavy necklaces, made of brass, adorned their necks, and each carried a staff made of wood with a brass inlay in complex patterns.  They didn’t seem to have noticed the intrusion into their sanctum.  Clara was glad that the figures were oblivious to their presence, and decided to hold her questions until they were somewhere where they might not be overheard.   
These must be the members of the Brazen Heart.

Clara stepped behind the Doctor, who, having no such qualms about being noticed, marched up to the nearest hooded cultist and tapped them on the shoulder.

“Hello?”

The cultist didn’t seem to even notice this.  They just kept facing the jar.  At least, that’s what it seemed like until he abruptly spun around.

Then every cultist turned to them in perfect synchronization.  Clara could practically feel the hostility radiating from them.

“Doctor-?” she started.

But the cultist nearest him had just drawn a knife with a curved blade and raised it in an offensive stance.  “Who dares trespass?”

The Doctor looked like he just realized that this approach might have been a slight mistake.  “We weren’t trespassing,” he said slowly.  “We got lost on our way to Tesco.  How about we just shut down that doomsday device you’ve got there, and we’ll be on our way?”

Clara wished she were closer so she could step on his foot.

The cultist suddenly slashed the knife down and the Doctor dove out of the way.

None of the others seemed to be reacting.

“Okay, you got me,” the Doctor said.  “We’re here on behalf of the SCP Foundation because they think your little urn there contains something that would destroy their universe.  We’re going to stop that from happening.  I’m the Doctor, and this is Clara Oswald.  Who are you?”

“You have lied!” the cultist shrieked, and the dragons flying overhead formed a circle.  The circle became tighter, the dragons’ heads getting closer together, and Clara was afraid of what was probably coming next.

“Look out!” she shouted and took cover by the nearest wall.  The Doctor jumped out of the way as a blast of white fire obliterated where he had been standing.  Clara shielded her eyes and prayed to every god but the one the Brazen Heart worshipped.  When the spots faded from her vision, she saw that the Doctor was already back on his feet, and stamping out the last flames burning on his waistcoat.  He seemed to be intact, and that was good enough for Clara.

“What’s in the jar?” he asked.

“You have destroyed our purity,” the cultists said in unison, all of their knives raised.  The dragons’ eyes glowed like hot coals.

Creepy.  But then Clara realized something.

“Well, if we aren’t pure, then how did we get here?” Clara asked, annoyed at the pretension. She stood, putting her hands on her hips. “That thing in there, the Purity Proctor, it said we were pure.  And how can you even tell if we’re pure anyway?”

The Doctor grinned at her.  Clara had never been a quiet or complacent person, but since she’d started her travels, she’d only gotten bolder.

“We can sense your sin,” they intoned.

The Doctor proceeded to ignore them.  He took out his glasses and surveyed the area, hovering on the urn for a few seconds longer than the rest of the circle.  The Doctor then scanned the first circle.  Clara heard a thunderous noise, and was pressed back against the wall again by the shockwave.

The cultists, who had been rather disoriented by this, and the dragons (who were just irritated), were beginning to zero in on him.  Obviously, they were displeased with being blown off their feet without an explanation - well, it looked like there was one, but she had been temporarily deafened from the blast.

Clara stood up and began to run towards the Doctor as her hearing began to return.  She was much faster than the slow cultists, as they arranged themselves outside of the second ring.  “What was that?” she asked.

“Defense mechanism.  I’ve disabled it.”  Quickly, the Doctor dashed over the the pedestal and stopped just before touching the urn, which was also made of brass upon closer inspection.  The sky was beginning to darken, and the rings began to glow with a dull yellow light.  Clara didn’t like the look of that.

The Doctor glanced upwards for a moment before grabbing the lid of the urn and peeking in.  Quickly, he stumbled backwards, and the lid flew back to the top of the urn as if it were magnetic.

The Doctor was holding his head as if in pain.  He was lying on the ground on his side, and his teeth were gritted together.

“Doctor!” Clara cried, and ran to his side.

She stopped as he stood up slowly, and turned around.  He didn’t answer her when she asked if he was okay.   Something about this felt really, really wrong.  She didn’t know what, but her years of traveling with the Doctor had taught her to trust her instincts, and something was telling her that the Doctor was not acting like himself.

“Doctor?” she asked, more quietly this time.

The Doctor turned to face her and his eyes were shining with golden light, not unlike the eyes of the dragons. Clara took another step back and stayed calm.

“Who is this ‘Doctor’ you speak of?” the not-Doctor asked.  He spoke with different inflections than the Doctor.  It was as if the Doctor was suddenly a much older, possibly hostile, being.  If this was some sort of prank, then it wasn’t funny.

Clara decided to stand her ground.  “He’s you.”

The not-Doctor looked down at the Doctor’s assortment of clothing and smirked.  “What an ostentatious being,” he said with scorn.  The not-Doctor threw the tattered coat to the ground with disdain.  “And what are you?” he said to Clara.  “His wife?”  The disgust in his voice was clear.

Suddenly, Clara realized what exactly was off.  The not-Doctor didn’t have a Scottish accent.

And for some reason, this was the thing about the whole ordeal that just made her angry.  She was angry at the Foundation, at this...thing, at the Brazen Heart, and at the Doctor.  She was angry at the amount of manipulation that she’d had to endure.  And she used that anger, because it was better than being scared that the Doctor would never come back.

“I’m his best friend, and if you don’t get him back now,” she started, walking forward until she was staring him in the eye.

“You’ll what?” the not-Doctor taunted her.

“I’ll turn your little sanctuary and every other attic you’ve got here into a research center.  I know how to get back here.  There’s a bunch of scientists just waiting on the doorstep to your dimension waiting to catch and catalogue everything in here.  And they’re going to be pissed that you captured their most elusive subject.”  She didn’t let her gaze waver.

He took the palm of his hand and placed it on her chest before pushing her backwards.  Clara stumbled for a step.  The Doctor would never push her like that, but then, Clara found it hard to remember that the Doctor was no longer in his body when he wasn’t speaking.

“You can’t hurt me, mortal.  I am in the realm of my power, free to bring about the Age of Brass on you and your sinful people.”  His lip curled in a sarcastic sneer.  The Doctor had never looked at her like that.

“You’re a nutter is what you are.  I don’t know what you’ve done with my friend, but I want him back.”

She noticed that the cultists were bowing toward the pedestal.

The not-Doctor grabbed her hair and yanked her head forward, pulling her to her knees.  Clara bit back a scream, and tried to resist his pull, but he was too strong.  “You will worship me, heathen!  Repent, and I shall spare your life!”  He released her hair, satisfied that she would kneel.

Clara’s eyes watered, and she blinked back her tears before looking up again.  She realized that this must be the god the Brazen Heart worshipped.  Well, if the Doctor could spit in the eye of gods and demons alike, so could she.  She was going to get him back.  The Doctor couldn’t be gone to that thing.

“Fuck you,” she spat.  “If I’m going to Hell, so be it.  But the Doctor is coming with me, and there is nothing you can do to stop that.”  Her voice was still strong and venomous, even as her head still smarted.

A darkness entered the not-Doctor’s eyes, and Clara’s anger and bravado was suddenly replaced with fear.  It reminded her of the times when the Doctor lost himself to the darkness of his past, and it was hard to draw him back.  Only, this darkness was more sinister, and less vacant.  It was directed at her.  This darkness wasn’t sorrow.  It was malevolence.

“You little whore,” he whispered.  “You disgust me.  You will be the first sacrifice of this new Age of Brass!”

“You’re not the Doctor,” she said, but her voice was shaking.  She was well and truly scared now.  This thing, if it wanted, was probably strong enough and willing enough to rape her, make her his concubine.

He smile was full of malice.  “I shall make an example of you.”

Clara tried not to let it show how scared she was.  She was too afraid to run and risk being killed by a cultist or the dragon.

“Doctor, this isn’t you.  Please, fight this,” she said, trying to hold his gaze, but failing.  She clutched the sleeves of her jacket to stop her hands from shaking..  

He stepped closer to her.

“Doctor!” Clara cried, her voice reaching a hysterical pitch.  She scooted backwards across the stone.

He grabbed her hair again to stop her from bolting as he got down on her level.  His predatory smile was still there.  He looked like a wolf closing in on a scared rabbit.  Clara didn’t like being a rabbit.

“Doctor, come on,” she said, pleading that he was in there somewhere, and could hear her.

He pushed her shoulders hard enough to knock her onto her back.  Two cultists approached and held down her arms.  Clara tried to pull away, but they were too strong.

The not-Doctor took one of the cultist’s knives and sliced her jacket open.  She spit in his face.

She tried to kick him, reminding herself that what she was hurting was not the Doctor, but some all-powerful god she had to stop.

He flipped the fabric of her jacket away and his hand barely brushed the skin of her neck, making her tremble.

She kicked out at him, but he didn’t react even when he was hit..

“Doctor,” she breathed.

He began to trace his fingers up and down her body, grinning at her discomfort.

Someone pressed something cold and hard into her hands and the cultists holding her loosened their grips.  Clara was repulsed, but she had to do this at exactly the right moment...

Her opening came, and she sat up, using her empty hand to nail the not-Doctor in the eye.  She didn’t stop once her assault started.  He fell backwards, and she shot up, propelled by adrenaline, and began kicking him hard and fast, keeping him down in his moment of disorientation.

“You bastard,” she panted, and she hoped that the tears which had smeared her makeup were from anger.

He grabbed her ankle and yanked her down.

Clara had a solid grip on the hilt of the knife, and apologized as she brought the hilt down on the Doctor’s head as hard as she could.

And everything stopped.

His grip released her.  The cultists fell back.  

A minute of the silence passed, and the brass rings and urn flashed once with a dull golden light.  The cultists fell to the ground.

Clara sat down and found she was trembling.  She began to sob.  

She sat there for a long time.


	6. Epilogue

Finally, Clara felt she was steady enough to go back.  The Doctor was still mostly unconscious, muttering nonsense and moaning quietly.  She still wasn’t sure what had happened, or if he was even himself.  She was scared that nothing had changed.

The cultists hadn’t moved from where they had collapsed.  Carefully, on nervous legs, Clara walked over and lifted up one of the hoods.  A young man’s dead eyes looked back at her.  

Clara checked three others.  They were all dead.

How?

She looked back over near the pedestal, where the Doctor was sitting up.  “Clara?” he called, and he sounded like himself.  But Clara wasn’t about to trust him, not after what the not-Doctor almost did to her.  “Clara?” he called again, and it really did sound like him.  He had the Scottish accent again.  And he sounded confused.

She looked over, and she was sure she looked like a mess.  She hadn’t bothered to put her jacket back on.  She decided to leave it.

Clara realized she was still holding the knife.  “We should get out of here,” she said.

“We should.”

He let her lead the way back through the circles, and this time the Debaucher caused them no fear.  Neither of them said a word.  Clara wasn’t sure how much the Doctor knew.  She suspected it was enough.  She hugged her arms around her chest.

They stopped at the broken staircase.  Clara had lost her hemlock branch with her jacket, and there was no way she was going back to get it.  For all she cared, it was lost for good now.  Carefully, she held the Doctor’s branch.  Their hands never touched.

Together, they stepped down into their own dimension.

 

They were met with guards again, pointing weapons.  Although it was a blur, Clara was yanked away from the Doctor and forced onto the ground.  She protested this loudly - after all, she hadn’t done anything, she wasn’t even armed - but didn’t fight back.  She was tired, physically and mentally, from that journey, and so she let them cuff her hands behind her back and drag her away with a bag over her head.  She could hear the Doctor’s protests, and the sounds of scuffling, and of a taser firing - and then nothing.

She hoped he made it out okay.

 

According to the official reports, Clara had told them her version of the events of her own free will.  Foundation agents amnesticized her and planted false memories in her head.  She remembered going to a mountain resort for a few days, the doctors decided, not running around in an alternate dimension.  Discreet interviews staged by Foundation personnel confirmed that the false memories had taken, and small adjustments to her social media and suggestions left in her workplace made the illusion complete.

Meanwhile, Clara woke up in her own bed and wondered when she was going to see the Doctor again.

It’d been a couple weeks.

**Author's Note:**

> So, my thoughts on last night:  
> The Pilot was really good, but I'm not so sure about Class. It might not be my thing. Anyway, Bill is pretty amazing. A genre savvy companion is exactly what the show needed. 
> 
> For those of you still awaiting Beneath Suspicion part 4, I'm working on it! 
> 
> Kudos, comments, and prompts/requests are always welcome!


End file.
